Zizi attends Hathan Nail High

Zizi attends Hathan Nail High.

This was going to be an ugly semester.
If last year’s bleak agenda seemed intolerable, this year’s prospects for sheer boredom and humiliation were significantly improved… for it was her fate to be assigned to Mr. Bullhedd’s Manmerican history class.

He had stood directly in front of her that morning, haranguing and belittling. She could still smell him. Coffee breath mixed with anger and sweat.

“I know what your thinking. You “blondies” believe you’re better than us.
We have a cure for that! You’ll see!”

I have news for you my little “fräutspawn,” this land is no longer part of “die fReich”. It’s Indiana and it’s going to remain Indiana forever! The sooner you learn that lesson, the better!”

Early that evening still seated at her wooden desk, exiled in a stifling, empty class room, Zizi writes vacant prose she would never embrace.
Over and over again…

I pledge allegiance to the flag…

Her hand seemed to have a memory of it’s own as it strokes along the next line. A mind-numbing task designed to consume her spirit.

Someday she thought, she would even the score with all those fat pigs!
She was keeping track– and she possessed an excellent memory!

I pledge allgience to the flag…